


Tiny Ketchups

by ashes0909



Series: Marvelous Adventures - A Series of Unrelated Fic [8]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Ficlet, Fluff, M/M, Travel, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-08
Updated: 2018-12-08
Packaged: 2019-09-14 10:10:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16910982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashes0909/pseuds/ashes0909
Summary: Commercial flying: better than wartime conditions since the 1950s.





	Tiny Ketchups

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was inspired by nasafic's wonderful prompt for my Tumblr Appreciation Prompts: stony & travelling (early flights, jet lag, that sort of realm). 
> 
> I wanted to migrate it off tumblr to ao3. Thanks nasa for the prompt and thanks for reading!

Tony shifted in his seat, the leather well-worn yet still somehow crinkling under his thighs and sticking to his arms. Even in first class, he barely had room for his legs. He hadn’t flown commercial in… ever. He hadn’t flown commercial  _ever_ , and he did not need to experience it to know why. Yet here he was, first class on a transatlantic flight, for one, simple, reason. **  
**

“There’s tiny toothpaste in here, and, is this–it is!” Beside Tony, Steve held up a miniature bottle of mouthwash like it was a prized artifact he just discovered. His grin had overtaken his face, and shined in his eyes. A layer of Tony’s frustration crumbled. He focused on the way Steve put aside the complimentary toiletries in favor of the pillow and blanket that had been waiting in the seatback in front of him.

Steve tore through the plastic, the tiny pillow falling into his lap. “Everything seems to be smaller on airplanes,” he observed. “No one ever tells you that.”

Tony was pretty sure that wasn’t actually true, but he wasn’t going to be the one to wipe the happy, little grin off Steve’s face.

They’d boarded first and, like a spectacle or circus, they then had to sit while the rest of the passengers shuffled past them. While Tony felt their stares like tiny, miniature judgements, Steve grinned at nearly everyone. A mom with two kids walked by, and he high-fived them both before shaking out the blanket. “This is definitely softer than anything we had in the war.”

_Commercial flying: better than wartime conditions since the 1950s._

Something must’ve shown on Tony’s face because Steve’s smile faltered a bit at the edges. Before Tony could think of something reassuring to say, Steve dropped his eyes to his watch and brightened. “We’re supposed to take off soon. It’ll feel weird not being able to access the cockpit.”

Tony nudged Steve shoulder - smiling, if only to make Steve smile fully again - and gestured to the phone in his pocket. “I’m pretty sure I can hack into the autopilot, if you feel the need.”

The suggestion worked, making Steve laugh as he shook his head. “I always wanted to see what normal flying was like. And I’m pretty sure ‘normal flying’ doesn’t include bypassing the pilot from a cell phone while seated with your seatbelt fastened in the passenger cabin. Aren’t we supposed to turn those things off when we takeoff anyway?”

“Complete fabrication,” he told Steve. “You really think they’re going to pry phones out of the hands of humanity? In this day in age?”

Steve shrugged like he wasn’t quite sure, before settling under his better-than-the-war blanket. The last of the passengers found their seats, and over the speaker, the flight attendant informed them that the cabin door was now closing.  _Please fasten your seatbelts and put your seatbacks and tray tables in an upright and locked position._

This was it, Tony’s last chance to run.

Well, except, he did have his armor-summoning-bracelets on; he could call the suit at any moment.

“They have the newest Spielberg on here!” Steve’s cheeks were pink from his near constant motion since he’d entered the plane. His expression knocked away any thoughts Tony had of running, or making Iron Man open the emergency exit door mid-flight. He loved this man so much he would sit next to him, cramped in a tin can, and fly eight hours across the ocean. For the experience.

The plane roared through takeoff, coming to a bumpy, if not unsteady leveling. Steve fidgeted with the TV. “It’s tiny, just like the rest of the airplane–”

“Steve, I think it’s a coincidence.” Tony reached over and pulled one of the headphones out of his hand and plucked it in his ear. “But either way it’s going to make it difficult to watch this Spielberg movie together.”

“You have your own tiny TV,” Steve replied by running his hand through Tony’s hair and guiding it to rest on Steve’s shoulder, in complete contradiction to his words.

Steve was warm against his side, and Tony had nothing to do for the next eight hours but sit beside him; he was beginning to accept that this sedentary “adventure” might be a tiny bit worth it.

~~

A week later they were back at home unpacking, and out of Steve’s suitcase fell another, smaller bag, that probably should have been seal-locked but wasn’t. Instead, on their bed spilled every bit of miniaturized luxury the airline had granted them: the mini toothbrush, mouthwash and toothpaste. There was the tiny hand lotion and eye mask, headphones and mini packets of cookies. At the bottom of the bag Tony could see the tiny pillow peeking out behind a handful of tiny, bottled ketchups.

Tiny ketchups.

“Steve, you know we can get ketchup from literally any fast food joint a half a mile from here, right?”

“Not in tiny bottle form! These are souvenirs!”

Tony supposed maybe he had a tiny, miniature point.


End file.
